Even As A Shadow, Even As A Dream
by octkrieger
Summary: Eleven begins coming to terms with the fact that she should stop looking for Hopper following his demise but her dreams offer some unexpected insight. " Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream. "


Nothing in Eleven's life had ever been a constant. The framework of her existence was not one built on a stable foundation. Something she knew one day was not necessarily sure to be true the next. She was raised under the knowledge that pleasant moments were only temporary and that fear would occupy the gaps.

For this reason among many, Hopper puzzled her.

He treated her differently than she had been treated in the past, wearing a distinct gentleness that she knew to dissipate when dealing with other people. Months passed and while winter lapsed into its most bitter cold, she began to amass warm feelings towards the policeman.

Then came the dark days. Promises left in doubt. Eleven's warmth gave way into festering impatience. An era of tension between friends, of shouting and broken glass. All because he wouldn't allow her to leave. It could only mean cruelty at the time, but she understood now that he was merely trying to protect her.

There was a plethora of things that she couldn't understand until now. Fresh burdens that she needed lifting from her shoulders, new apologies indefinitely unsaid.

She did not think to put up a similar argument with Joyce in regards to where she could or could not go. A bright-eyed young girl once fueled by curiosity towards the world around her was now plagued with an exhaustion that sleep didn't seem to fix; one that allowed no time for childlike misadventure.

Her newfound appreciation for his actions existed without an outlet. Joyce grew upset at his mention and although she had insisted that she was there to talk at any time, Eleven had made a mental note to no longer mention Hopper in her presence. He was the only person that she _really _wanted to talk to, after all. The trouble was that he fell just out of her reach.

Searching for him was a lost cause. He was _gone__, _from her conversations and from her life and, lying spread-eagle on her mattress listening to the dull hum of silence, it occurred to her that this whole gone thing was something she had better start getting used to.

It had been the writing on the wall since the moment that she had doubled onto her knees in the mall parking lot, hit with a surge of emotions that no longer compared to her quiet numbness:

_She was never going to get to see Hopper again._

* * *

She had not had a dream in so long, but this did not seem to be a slumber of carefree fantasy.

The point-of-view in which she experienced the world around her was akin to any other dream. First-person. She felt like she was really there, though it did not take long for her to realize that the eyes she was seeing her surroundings through were not her own.

Chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. Strands of matted, shoulder-length dark blonde hair hung in her face. The room around her consisted of unclean floors and barren walls, the aroma of her attire, wretched; a grotesque mixture of sweat and copper.

She was experiencing such unfavorable circumstances from the point-of-view of a man trapped in what appeared to be a prison cell, closed off by a single door rather than metal bars.

Wrists involuntarily strained against their confines and she found that she was unable to control his movements. He struggled and struggled, growing more frantic as the sound of heavy footsteps trailed towards his location from outside. As he moved, she took notice of the rough fabric that occasionally made contact with his flat stomach and jutting ribs. The slightest activity tired her. He would not be strong for much longer yet.

Keys jingled in the lock and the door gave way to bring two men in uniform into view, lingering at the threshold: one unfit and of average height and the other, surly and physically intimidating. A low growling wafted into the room from an unknown source, taking Eleven off guard with its familiarity. Even as it sounded to be creeping in nearer, the two at the door remained blissfully unconcerned.

The prisoner lifted his head to closer observe his visitors, much more attentive to the growling, but downcast his gaze once more in synchronization with one man's nod of approval to the other.

"Возьми его. "

And so she woke.


End file.
